*self pity, please ignore*
I seem to be on a mission to fuck up every opportunity that passes my way.
Oh well things will either improve or I’ll turn into an eternal disappointment.
*self pity stops here*
*
I’ve dared myself to post something I’ve written. (kinda relying on the hope that not many people actually read my LJ)
Strangeness, grammar and punctuation errors beyond this point.
Severus of course does not belong to me. He owns me completely however.
*
He stares right through me.
Such loathing , in dark eyes that trail from head to toe.
Visits are rare and following no particular pattern, sometimes weeks pass without a glimpse of him. I’m always shaken, unprepared when he stalks in, billowing black.
He never speaks. There is no need, stiff expression slackens slowly, revealing an array of emotions in coal black eyes.
Cruel lines run deep, marring dry sallow skin, each a memory of past strain.
One eyebrow lifts in assessment, eyes narrowing and lip curling slightly in disgust.
He never stays before me for long, shoulders finally slump as eyes close tightly.
Fingers raise to pinch the ridge of his hooked narrow nose.
His breathing becomes audible, deep and controlled.
Long seconds pass in that manner.
Eventually he transforms, face pulled into habitual neutrality.
Long oily hair is tossed over one shoulder as he straightens, pivoting he glides out.
I’ve never once found my voice on these visits.
When he leaves the door slams with such force that I’m thoroughly rattled in my frame. As always I’m left wondering why he hates himself so much.
I seem to be on a mission to fuck up every opportunity that passes my way.
Oh well things will either improve or I’ll turn into an eternal disappointment.
*self pity stops here*
*
I’ve dared myself to post something I’ve written. (kinda relying on the hope that not many people actually read my LJ)
Strangeness, grammar and punctuation errors beyond this point.
Severus of course does not belong to me. He owns me completely however.
*
He stares right through me.
Such loathing , in dark eyes that trail from head to toe.
Visits are rare and following no particular pattern, sometimes weeks pass without a glimpse of him. I’m always shaken, unprepared when he stalks in, billowing black.
He never speaks. There is no need, stiff expression slackens slowly, revealing an array of emotions in coal black eyes.
Cruel lines run deep, marring dry sallow skin, each a memory of past strain.
One eyebrow lifts in assessment, eyes narrowing and lip curling slightly in disgust.
He never stays before me for long, shoulders finally slump as eyes close tightly.
Fingers raise to pinch the ridge of his hooked narrow nose.
His breathing becomes audible, deep and controlled.
Long seconds pass in that manner.
Eventually he transforms, face pulled into habitual neutrality.
Long oily hair is tossed over one shoulder as he straightens, pivoting he glides out.
I’ve never once found my voice on these visits.
When he leaves the door slams with such force that I’m thoroughly rattled in my frame. As always I’m left wondering why he hates himself so much.